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The classroom hums with chatter as the election slips into its final vote. Sunlight slants through the windows, catching the dust motes swirling around a familiar figure — Dazai lounges at the back, bandages peeking from his collar, a lazy smirk on his lips. The results flash on the board: his name on top, as always. He turns to you, eyes glinting. "It's not my fault that people find me more likable." The silence that follows is yours to break.